


Night Shift

by Themaidsdiaries



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Hospital, Slow Burn Twissy, alternative universe, small bits of Fourth/Sarah Jane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themaidsdiaries/pseuds/Themaidsdiaries
Summary: Missy lost too much in the past and decided to keep people away, until she meet Dr. John Smith, The Doctor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this after spending a lot of awful hours in a hospital these past few days with grandpa and reading PinkPunk010 Au fanfics. It's a sad story written by someone sad, sorry about it. 
> 
> English is not my first language, so please, forgive me my mistakes and typos.

The dawn is always interesting. During it silence reigns without much dispute and it is possible to hear the most subtle and miserable noises. Dawn hours are slow, which if well spent yield more than any hour of any ordinary day time. When misused, the first few hours of the morning can be loaded, suffering to cross. In these hour reside the fears, the demons and the nightmares.

It is during these hours, as she wandered through the deserted hospital, that she felt as peaceful as possible. The nurses were gathered in their rest rooms in readiness for any emergency and not walking in busy and noisy entourages. Most of the patients slept as well, as most of the companions. No people running to and fro, no phones ringing, no questions asked, no worried family begging for attention or information, just silence and nothing else.

Making the round of dawn was quiet and she liked it. It felt easier to drag her demons with her through long walks in clear and deserts corridors. It made them tired and kept them away for the next day, and they would not be when she'd finally fall into her bed in a torpor of exhaustion.

She visited bed after bed, conferring progress or regression on the recovery or treatment of each patient. When necessary making the appropriate changes and moved on. She was zealous for the life and health of an immense group of internees, but out of the shadows, like a ghost.

They all knew her by name, but only the staff attached her to the lean, angular-faced woman, hair caught in a messy bun and intense blue eyes. Three year she worked in that hospital, and besides her figure, they knew nothing about her.

Well, whoever had exchanged enough words with her, knew she had one foot in Scotland by the accent, but taking away that detail, all the rest was a real mystery, but nobody really cared. 

The early hours of July 23 seemed as promising as the countless others she'd been through. Mr. McAllister was recovering well, Mrs. O'Brien remained steady, Robert Foley wans’t making so good, and the long list went on. In a general review, it was certified that most patients had more positive than negative signs. Excellent.

Mary Harington woke when she stood by her bed as at every shift. The 80-year-old lady would always open a wide smile, with bright eyes and extend the free arm of the medical paraphernalia toward her in a silent plea.

"My beautiful girl, you came to wish me good night." Her low, trembling voice always carried nuances of joy when she saw her. She took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed, indulging to the senile appeal of the poor lady.

"It's late, go back to sleep," She said quietly, running her thumb over the woman’s knuckles. That recurring situation penalized her, but those were the most significant conversations she had with anyone else in recent months.

"When are we going home, my dear?" The lady asked, as she did every night they saw each other. This made her wonder if on the other days or if during day time there was another person playing the same role she did for that woman. Did anyone else offer this little consolation to her? She could not say.

"Soon, but for this you need to rest to regain your strength," She said softly, with the vehemence necessary to maintain the illusion of the false promise.

"We'll have to go shopping, I've lost my handkerchief, and I need another one and lines to embroider the initials." Mr. Harington told her seriously, making it clear the importance of the item and the task to her.

"We'll do whatever you want," She promised kindly, though she knew none of it was true. Mary would not leave, at least not alive. Knowing this made her swallow hard, and yet she smiled softly. "Rest now."

"Goodnight, my dear girl," Mrs. Harington murmured before falling back to sleep.

"Night." She murmured in response

She waited a few minutes to make sure Mary was actually asleep. Her health was weakened increasingly and nothing could be done but to give her as much comfort as possible in those last days. She made a mental note in arranging the handkerchief and embroidering the initials to bring to Mary on her next turn. That might bring to the heart of that poor lady a little joy.

Normally she would not do something like that for a patient, she did not even have contact with them beyond what was necessary, but not even her self-determination to remain isolated was so absolute. She rested the lady's hand back on the bed and stood up.

It reminded her that she was human and that the desire to have a bond with someone, to be part of one's life is natural, inherent.

She let her breath escape through her nose with sadness and ass he turned on her heel she saw a figure watching her through the window of the door. A man, well, a doctor, judging from his dress, watched her from the corridor.

The first thing she noticed was his gaze. In his eyes she saw respect and sympathy and knew immediately that whoever he was, he was a good man. He was the kind of humanized and solicitous doctor who had become rare specimens lately.

"Doctor Saxon?" She gave a restrained nod, confirming her identity as she stepped into the hallway and stopped in front of him. "That’s your mother?" Apparently he not only watched the scene, but heard the few words exchanged.

"No, but she thinks so." She said in a low, polite voice, watching him closely. She did not remember seeing him in the hospital before, not the night shifts at least. She would have noticed that figure walking through the hospital with his messy gray hair, his clothes a little crumpled and the air of tranquility. "And you are..?"

"I'm the Doctor," he answered immediately, a polite smile lighting his face.

"Doctor Who?" Did he really expect her to know him? From the surprise on his face it seemed so, but she had no idea who that man was.

"I'm Doctor John Smith, have not you received the notification? I'm here to replace Dr. Jones, I'm going to be your shift partner from now on." Despite the initial surprise, he kept his cordial tone and a friendly smile on his face.

"Ah..." She felt uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "Yes, I did. Welcome." She had completely forgotten about the doctors change. Martha Jones never got in her way, staying exclusively with the pediatric ward where she totally refused to visit.

"Thank you." He smiled even more, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I help you with the round?"

"No. Actually there's nothing else to be done here, I'll just pass the notes to the system." She said directly. "You're going to stick with the child wing that was Dr. Jones's job."

"I know. I've been there doing my rounds, but the ward is almost empty so I thought I'd take the quiet time to come and introduce myself and meet you, maybe help if that was the   
case. I already know our colleagues on shift, you're the only one I have not yet had the pleasure to meet. " She wondered if he needed to smile so much or be so willing to help.   
Being solicitous with patients was one thing, she did not need his help or sympathy.

"Well, we are already properly presented." She sounded polite and direct, giving all indications that the conversation ended there. Her feet took a step back and she turned her body to turn away in the opposite direction before saying. "Good luck with the new turn." She said and turned completely.

"Dr. Saxon?" He called her and she turned around enough to look over her shoulder. "Would you like to ... hm..." Missy saw uncertainty in him. He called her on an impulse not expecting such a big barrier. No one had told him anything about her? "Would you like to take a coffee?"

Take a coffee presumed conversations, first professionals, then about patients, then about personal amenities. Take a coffee could be professional warmth, the beginning of a bond, a friendship. Everything she did not really want.

"No, thank you." She answered directly without any emotion, then turned and left to her own office.


	2. Chapter 2

Missy turned the keys on the lock and and turned the knob once. Nothing. Applying a little force with her right shoulder the door gave way, letting the midday light invade the hallway of the broad house that she had been living on for the last three years.

Moving had seemed like a good move, the occupation of choosing a new property and decorating it had been a good distraction in the first few months, but it had been a limited project and now, despite being perfectly within her standards, she did not find her home cozy or welcoming.

She let go of Ruffles's collar and the border collie ran toward the kitchen for a well-deserved sip of water, followed soon by the owner.  
It was a few hours before her next shift began, so she set the bags down on the kitchen table and set a kettle on the stove.

She fished her cell phone inside her purse to check the message box. Then she put the phone in the living voice mode and began storing the groceries in the cabinets and in the refrigerator.

**_"Hello, Beauty. I just talked to Sarah Jane, this weekend is her birthday, and we'll come to her house for a little party. I hope you understand that I'm not inviting you. I'll be there to pick you up at six-thirty p.m., so be ready. See ya!"_ **

As always Jack Harkness's voice sounded lively and fun and for a few seconds it filled the whole kitchen. Ruffles sat next the table with his ears raised and listening to the voices as he watched his mistress.

They'd known each other since college, Jack and her. On the first day of class, the moment you enter an absolutely unsafe room and not quite knowing how to behave, their eyes met and immediately enchanted each other. And how not to? Jack had that morbid, amusing mood that matched hers. Both were applied and the two knew how to enjoy the crazy life. And how crazy life was.

They split a small apartment near the college in the last few years, until they followed different paths in the residence and she became engaged to Ian.

The cell phone beeped loudly, bringing her attention back to the device. There was another message, which began automatically.

**_"Missy, it's Sarah Jane. How are you? We all miss you. My brother is finally in town and as it is my birthday so my John convinced me to make a little party, just us, you and Jack. He told me you doesn’t work on Saturday nights so come on, please. We really miss you. "_ **

She thought for a moment how to escape that situation. Maybe she could change her schedule and work on Saturday, that would stop her from going on Sarah’s birthday, but knowing her friends she knew they did not give up that easy. If they have not given up on her in the last few years, they certainly wouldn’t give up on her now.

Sarah Jane had come into her life of fright about a twelve years ago, like a great and pleasant surprise. She was on duty when the journalist bumped into her as she tried to sneak out the hospital. Missy did not know why she resolved to help her, but there was determination in her, and the certainty in her words convinced the doctor of what she should do. The next moment they hid Sarah under the table in her office and misled the hospital director.

She later discovered that funds for the construction of a new wing were being diverted and that Sarah Jane was there to investigate some of the director's suspicious actions. Since then they had become close and soon it was common for they to enjoy weekend lunchs or summer barbecues with the kids.

She felt a lump in her throat. Spending time with Jack and Sarah always brought back memories she wanted to suffocate at all costs, but she knew she could not run away forever. Sooner or later, if she kept dodging the invitations, the two would break into her house and drag her out.

Ruffles stretched himself on the cold floor of the kitchen without taking his eyes off her and exhaled. Even the dog seemed to know what was best for her.

"I know, you think I should go. Okay, since they want me that much, I will. " She told the dog completely against it.

 

**~ * ~**

 

"I cannot believe you're finally here!" Sarah Jane's voice reverberated through the entrance hall of the mansion as she threw her arms around her brother's neck and squeezed him.

John immediately regretted going there, but nevertheless returned the hug in the most polite way he could, giving small and quick pat on the back of his sister.

"Okay, okay, no need to choke me, little sister. Let me go now. " He said, pulling away from his sister's embrace. Funny that for someone who loved to save lives, physical contact was not something he really appreciated.

"How dare you take so long to come back home? Your nephews should not even remember you by now." She mumbled as she closed the door and walked toward the kitchen.

He wandered behind her, looking around. The old house on Bannerman Road was just like his memories, the walls were the same color and the furniture was the same from his childhood. Getting in there was like entering a parallel universe and falling back into the past.

His gaze focused on the staircase, expecting to see himself and his sister hurrying down the stairs as they always did, but the house was quiet and they were no longer kids.

"Where is everybody?"

"In the attic, John has built a metal dog and is there with the boys trying to program it so it does not bump into the furniture." Sarah Jane explained as if build dogs were the most natural thing possible.

His brother-in-law was an eccentric man and in common the two had only the name. John Smith was an utterly banal name, but while he was Doctor Smith, or just the Doctor, as he liked to be called, his brother-in-law was Mr. Smith. A tall man with big blue eyes and a heap of curls dangling from his head. He was always building bizarre things with his head in the clouds, but he was a fun, easy-going guy. It was not hard to like him.

"Have you finished moving?" She asked as she cleaned some space at the kitchen table. It was a fact that everything was an absolute mess, with papers all over the place and countless stacks occupying the entire table top.

Not even he, whose life had always involved boxes and moving around, had already had a kitchen in that state. Lie, he had lived in places that were absolutely uncluttered, in a real chaos of scattered objects, but this is normal when one lives alone and spends more time working than in fact at home.

When one is passionate about one's profession as he was, his house was merely a place to sleep. For that reason he had spent the last 15 years traveling and studying, first spent five years with Doctors without Borders in Africa, from there he left for Italy, Portugal, Vienna, then went to Australia and ended up in Brazil, where he spent the last three years.

"More or less, some boxes have not yet arrived from Rio Grande." He remarked as he watched his sister move around the kitchen with extreme agility.

"I cannot believe how you managed to live this nomadic life for so long." Sarah set down slices of English cake and cups of tea on the table before him and seated in front of John.

He watched his sister for a few seconds. Although she was about to turn 40 and with two children, Sarah Jane still looked like a girl, with her curious eyes and easy smile. Sitting there he realized that he had missed her.

"Well, I like traveling, meeting places, people, learning new things. You would have liked Brazil, lively people, always willing and with the habit of telling all about their lives without even knowing your name. That would fit to you like a glove." His comment made her laugh lightly behind the teacup.

"It would save me a lot of job if people here were like that too." She took a long sip and like him, she studied him back. "So you finally decided to come back to England."

"Fifteen years away seems like enough time." He said with a shrug. It was the truth, he had finally missed home, so when he found a suitable job at a hospital in London he packed up and left on the first plane. Sarah Jane seemed to expect more than that. He could imagine her brain listing a list with innumerable possibilities that would make him return home. "I just wanted to come back, without  
any other obscure reason. I swear."

"If it's a lie I'll find out anyway, you know that." She said with a smug smirk. "Saturday night Jack and Missy will be here for my birthday, I want you to come. I'll finally be able to introduce you to her! "

"Sarah Jane ..." John rolled his eyes and said in a warning tone. Why did people insist on presenting him to women? It was not like he was some kind of monk, but what's the problem with being single after forty?

"It's not what you're thinking. I'm not trying to fool you into a blind date or trying to play cupid, Missy is not that kind of woman. I just think it's absurd that we have been friends for so long and you do not know her, especially having Jack as a mutual friend. She’s a doctor too, might be good to have her as an acquaintance, maybe a contact even.” She explained earnestly, without elaborating.

"No funny business?" He asked suspiciously, trying to locate some trace on his sister's face that indicated excuses, but found nothing.

"No funny business, I swear."

"Fine then." Spend saturday night with family and friends would not be so bad after all. Sarah Jane was all smiles when he looked up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... any thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

Working during the night hours was never a problem, simply because for him to work, regardless of the time, it was something pleasurable and comforting, at least most of the time.

There was a time, early in his career when he traveled to Africa with the Doctors without Borders that nothing was easy or pleasurable. The malnourished and sick children were so many that for more donations or supplies they received, those could never be enough. Many of the children died in matters of days, some even in hours, and around him often there was nothing but suffering, of others and his.

But even with all the pain there were good points in that hard work. It was gratifying to see a child recover, gain weight and leave hospitals hoping for a new chance. Seeing his work paying off made him happy, but he was even more satisfied by the simple fact that he was helping, that he was doing his part to make those lives a little better.

Now, many years later, he saw with satisfaction that this period of privation and difficulties had made him strong and ingenious. If all the equipment of that hospital simply stopped, he knew that he would keep his children alive and as comfortable as possible.  
Certain things we only learn in extreme situations.

Even so, whenever a child showed signs of worsening, he worried. It was impossible not to feel sad or touched, however much he kept his high spirit and good humor. He believed that staying optimistic was half the way to a recovery.

It was with a melancholy state of mind that he left the child-care ICU where one of his patients was now since early afternoon, closing the door behind him so that the 11-year-old girl did not notice his sadness.

If adults were scared to be isolated in the ICU, for children it was even more difficult, especially for what they were aware of, like Lizzie Anderson. Those odd beeps and sounds emanating from the countless machines in the room were scary to anyone, but he made sure she was sleeping soundly before leaving. At least his test results showed great chances of recovery for her kidneys. That made him feel a bit better.

As he removed the protective clothing from the ante-room, he noticed through the wide windows Dr. Saxon's presence in the ICU beside his, specifying for adults. The doctor was standing in one of the beds near the window, holding the patient's hand and her gaze back to the medical records, analyzing the results of her exams.

John recognized the lady of the previous shift, her condition had visibly worsened.

He noticed that the doctor was concentrating on the reading and he, without realizing, kept his attention on her, the way she moved her small, thin-fingered hands precisely to turn the pages of the records and to check the patient's pulse. Her posture was flawless and he wondered if it was like that all the time.

He thought it strange how she kept her distance from people. It did not take long to notice that it was not a behavior exclusively with him, but that she adopted with everyone else, colleagues or patients. The only exception he noticed so far was that poor old  
lady.

He only realized he was staring when she lifted her head and their eyes met. He felt reduced to ashes over that precise clinical scrutiny. Her gaze was intense, almost too much. Taken by surprise and a little unresponsive, John held up one hand in a mute greeting, accompanied by a rather dull smile.

The woman just nodded back and he felt even more foolish. Before he could worsen the situation, he left her field of vision.

 

**~ * ~**

 

When Missy started her shift she felt something was out of order, that something was wrong. All she had to do was put her foot on the parking pavement so that the sensation would hit her fully.

As with all shifts, she checked the new patients and made sure the fate of each of them. It was normal to come across patients who went home, or who were transferred to other wards or hospitals, or even those who had not resisted while she was in her rest hours.

When working with adults, death was easier to deal with. There were no innocents there. All had experienced adulthood, made their decisions, done or failed to do things at their own will. The death of the elders was logical to her. People failed to understand that but the human body has an expiration date, and a person dying at an advanced age meant a life well lived. There would be  
longing and sadness, but the family would not feel the revolt over a life being prematurely cut off. That she understood very well.

Despite all this, verifying the transfer of Mary Harrington to the ICU caused a sting of apprehension in her stomach. Not that the worsening of her state of health was unexpected, she already knew that Mary’s life was coming to an end, but she could not help but notice the irony of her own actions. When she could finally do something to give the woman a little joy, Mary had reached a point of total unconsciousness.

Even so, she put the handkerchief in the pocket of her lab coat and after the usual round, went to the ICU.  
The exams indicated cessation of functioning of various organs. Mary was breathing with the aid of devices and her heart rate was gradually decelerating by every hour.

She set the medical records on her side and brushed her fingers away from Mary's pulse point. The lady looked terrible and Missy seriously doubted she would survive until dawn.

It was then she noticed that she was being watched and looked up at the large window on the wall. That doctor the other night was staring at her. What was his name again? Ah yes, Smith, Doctor Smith. She watched the surprise in him as their eyes met and knew that if they were in a different situation she would have rolled her eyes impatiently. But she nodded back with a brief gesture.

As soon as he was out of sight Missy felt her shoulders relax a little. She had not even noticed that she was so tense in the unwelcome crowd. Then she took the handkerchief from her pocket and doubled it so that its ends were perfectly aligned and placed it under the fingers of Mary's right hand with the utmost care and gentleness.

The old lady might not have known, but her simple wish had been fulfilled and Missy was glad that she could at least grant that little help. With a last soft grip on the woman's fingers, she pulled away. Back in the routine, that's how it should be.


End file.
